Cry Gone Unanswered
by Ankha
Summary: Based on my own GSFI universe: What if Severus had never gotten Harry's letter that pled for help, what if no one had? What would have happened to "The-Boy-Who-Lived"? You would be surprised. Prologue almost same as 1st chapter of GSFI with one major chan
1. Prologue

A/N: I was thinking, you know, what if no one had gotten that letter from Harry. You know, not even Severus? It would mean he would have had to stay with the Dursleys and suffer through who knows what atrocities. Severus would still be a literal jackass and Albus would still be distant from them. So how would that work in my universe? I'm about to find out. 

**Cry Gone Unanswered**

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! And that includes Harry Potter and Gollum's Song.

"I don't have PMS I have CMS, the C standing for constant," My English Teacher

By Ankha

Prologue

~*(Dursely's house, midnight)*~

Harry hunched in the corner of his cupboard, pressing the dirty piece of his school robe to his cheek. Upon reaching Privet Drive a week ago, he had been thrown in the cupboard and locked in. Heaven only knew what had happened to his school things. 'At least Hedwig's safe,' he thought. He had felt that it would be prudent to leave his familiar with his best friend Ron, thinking only of her safety. Something had told him that the Dursleys had not forgotten what had happened the summer before. The second he had gotten 'home' he found out just how right he was. The beating had been bad and they were progressively getting worse. Gently he took the bloody rag away from his cheek to change the position of his arm. The large gash had been Uncle Vernon's latest present to him via a sharp hunting knife. Repositioning himself, he closed his eyes, hoping to catch a few hours of dreamless sleep.

~*(The next day at the Weasley home)*~

"Hedwig what's wrong?" Ron asked the agitated bird. The owl hooted desperately, beating her wings against the cage.

"She wants to be let out Ron." Ginny unlocked the cage, almost being knocked to the floor as the bird flew out the window.

"Well that was certainly a nice thank you," Ginny grumbled, straightening up.

"She must be going to Harry. I hope he's okay," Ron's voice sounded worried.

~*(Back at the Dursley's that night)*~

Harry, however, was not okay. Along with the cut cheek, he now nursed a broken leg. He lay stock still on his bed, any movement caused him excruciating pain. Night was now his favorite time of the day, the only time that the Dursleys left him alone. The rush of wings and a soft hoot made him sit up. Stifling a gasp of pain, he peered through the vent at a pair of sharp yellow eyes.

"Hedwig!" he whispered, flooded with overwhelming joy and fear at the same time. Joy to see his familiar and fear that Uncle Vernon might her. If he did, she would most certainly die.

"Hang on Hedwig." He searched the cupboard as best he could for a scrap of paper. Finding an old magazine, he ripped out a mostly white page and grabbed one of the pens the Dursleys kept stored there. His hands were shaking so badly he only managed "**HELP!**" and his initials. Folding the paper in half, he carefully slid it out the vent to Hedwig. She clamped her beak on it securely, waiting for further instructions. 

"Take this to a Hogwarts professor, I don't care which! Just the closest one," he commanded. Another rush of beating wings told him she was gone. He sat back and prepared himself for the wait. He knew it would take Hedwig a full day to get to Hogwarts, maybe longer if she had trouble finding a professor. He sighed miserably, hoping the Dursleys forgot he was in here.

***

The dark clocked figure, one that would have made Death himself shudder, smiled as the snowy owl emerged from the darkened house, note clamped in her beak. With a snap of his wand the bird froze in mid-flight, falling like a stone from the sky. He wathced it hit the ground before moving to pick it up. It wasn't dead, merely severly injured. He waved his yew wand over the owl, ensuring it lived (he would perhaps have use for it later) and snatched the note from its beak, scanning it. A smile settled over those thin lips and a soft chuckle escaped him. Well, it seemed as though Potter was having a _bad_ summer. And there was no need to stop it, the man thought as he crumpled the note. Red, serpentine eyes gleamed; no need indeed.

Where once was light

Now darkness falls

Where once was love

Love is no more

Don't say - goodbye

Don't say - I didn't try...

These tears we cry

Are falling rain

For all the lies

You told us

The hurt, the blame!

And we will weep

To be so alone

We are lost!

We can never go home

So in the end

I'll be - what I will be

No loyal friend

Was ever there for me

Now we say - goodbye

We say - you didn't try

These tears you cry

Have come too late

Take back the lies

The hurt, the blame!

And you will weep

When you face the end alone

You are lost!

You can never go home

Gollum's Song

Music by Howard Shore

Lyrics by Fran Walsh

Performed by Emiliana Torrini

**A/N**: *smirks* Now the stage is set. As there will be a lull in my other story of torture, I need to let those tendancies out somewhere else. What better way than here? About the song, just consider it a theme for Harry all through this story. Believe, I thought it fit him very well by the time I'm through with him. *smirks and walks calmly out of the room, Slytherin robes swishing ominously behind her*


	2. A Hero Vanished

A/N: I was thinking, you know, what if no one had gotten that letter from Harry. You know, not even Severus? It would mean he would have had to stay with the Dursleys and suffer through who knows what atrocities. Severus would still be a literal jackass and Albus would still be distant from them. So how would that work in my universe? I'm about to find out. 

**Cry Gone Unanswered**

Chapter 1- A Hero Vanished

"Do you see him?" Hermione asked hopefully of the approaching redhead. Ron Weasley, youngest boy of the Weasley family, shook his head as he drew level with her. They were standing in the center of the bedlam that was Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Around them, fellow pupils of the renowned Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry rushed through the insanely packed platform to find compartments, friends, and family. The first was all too important as none wished to be stuck looking for one later, _after_ the train was well under way. The second was the beginning of the re-knitting of the tight community that was both a blessing and a curse. Being close meant there was always someone to turn to if you're in trouble. It also meant there was a grapevine of gossip were rumors traveled faster than a Firebolt pushed to its limits. The third was to bid farewells too, with promises of good behavior and earnest pleas to keep safe. Normally this would be given lightly but no longer. The students of the previous year had returned home with Dumbledore's declaration of Voldemort's return. By the parents' actions of obvious worry and over-protection, they had believed the Headmaster. Only a handful at most had taken to heart that the Minister was correct and the venerable professor had lost his proverbial marbles. Those that thought this did not truly believe it but merely tried to convince themselves they did for they did not wish to face the hard times of the Dark Lord's previous reign of terror. But, then again, no one did. Who in their right minds would? But these seemed convinced that if they thought the Dark Lord had not risen again, he could not hurt them. That was _highly_ unlikely.

At the moment, none of this crossed either Gryffindors' mind as they scanned the crowd, once again, for their friend. Harry had sent them letters all summer. The overall tone of most were boredom and desperate want to leave the Dursleys. 

'Not want,' thought Hermione, 'Need is a better word.' Though the fact they had had any contact at all with him was a relief, they knew something was amiss. Three or four of the letters (more like notes really) had consisted of nothing more than of, "I need to get out of here." Always just the one line, often repeated several times. They would only be signed with an H. What was really the cause of her unease was the feeling that emanated from those in particular. It was desperation, despair and enormous amounts of fear. She could not shake the feeling for a good five minutes after touching them so she'd taken to wearing gloves to avoid contact with them. 

Now they could not find Harry.

"I'm really beginning to become worried, where in the world could he be?" Hermione voiced both of their thoughts. That one in particular mush have run through their mind several times already but had yet to yield and answer. Before Ron could offer a response a familiar sneering voice cut through the crowd's noise behind them. 

"Well, well. Weasel and the Mudblood. Where's your Saint Potter? Was he too scared to come back this year?" The two Gryffindors turned to face the person both wished least to see: Malfoy. had they not been so worried about their lost friend they might have noticed one not so small detail; the Slytherin was alone. Malfoy _always_ traveled with his two goons. Ron drew his wand threateningly but Hermione placed a restraining hand over his. 

"Go away, Malfoy, we have no time to deal with you." All looked up when the train gave its last warning whistle before it left the station. "Come on, Ron, let's go to our compartment." Hermione tugged at his sleeve, managing to pull him away from the potential fight. 

When they disappeared into the throng, the blonde's smirk faded to a frown. Where was Potter? Normally one could not find him far from these two yet they seemed uncertain of his whereabouts. Draco was willing to bet they had no clue where the Golden Boy was. Why he cared was anyone's guess, he didn't know himself. But over the summer, things had.....changed. His father had returned to he service of Voldemort and Draco knew for certain that was not the path he wanted to follow. The man had become increasingly violent as well.....He shook his head to banish those thoughts Whether the changes were for the better or worse had yet to be seen. For now, all he could do was let his instincts guide him. Glancing in the direction of the train, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar pair of emerald green eyes. He held them for a moment before they disappeared into the depths of darkness. Draco stood momentarily stunned by what he had seen before shaking himself free of the shock and heading to his compartment. he needed to do something--anything!--to take his mind off the emotions he had seen trapped within those burning green orbs. Fear, pain, hatred, anger and bitterness. All that and more. 

It was the more that frightened the Slytherin.

***

The compartment was cold but the feeling only went skin deep and could be easily ignored, at least in the sole occupant's opinion. Any one else would immediately feel the need to call the front to ask about heating But the occupant did not, he had been the one to shut off the heat flow in the first place. This action had mostly been spurred by the wish to be alone. Th other reason was he enjoyed the cold, it suited his mood. If anyone was foolish enough to enter, if the atmosphere did not chill them, the other occupant would. Impassive expression set in granite, eyes cut from the finest (and hardest) emeralds, and wild black hair falling to his shoulders. The famous lightening bolt stood out prominently on the alabaster skin, but instead of it being slightly red as it was normally, it was completely black. 

Frightening.

At the moment those hard eyes were trained on the chaos outside. He thanked whatever deity there was that he had convinced his uncle that he needed to arrive early. The man had agreed of course but not before getting in a few farewell blows. The teenager's left eye was nearly swollen shut but he defiantly held it open against the pain, determined not to give in. Vernon had been happy to see his "good-for-nothing" nephew leave. The teenager had only too happy to oblige. Not that he wanted to be here anymore than he had his relative's house. He was not welcome. The only difference was the only pain he would suffer through at Hogwarts would be from his dreams. 

His eyes fell on a familiar pair: one brown head, the other red. This was the first time he had seen them since the end of last year where they had parted at this very station. Now.....he could care less if he ever saw them or anyone again. That's why he'd donned an invisibility cloak when the red-head had conducted his search. His one wish was to be left alone, forgotten by the world. He would do his very best to ensure that happened. For a brief moment, part of him wondered if this was the best course of action. For a fraction of a second those diamond-hard eyes softened before "common sense" reasserted itself and he shut his eyes. A soft growl escaped his lips, the only sound he had made since he'd arrived. No, he would not give in. They did not truly care about him otherwise they would have answered his plea for help......but there was no use dwelling on that. When he felt in control of himself enough to re-open his eyes it was to find the pair walking toward the train and away from a familiar blonde Slytherin. Malfoy turned his eyes in his direction and for a moment they stared at one another. He almost immediately turned away, frightened by what he saw there. It was as if the boy could see through him and he must not allow that happen. 

Never.

And he wouldn't, he decided as he settled back into the red cushions, he would make certain of that. The train lurched into motion a moment later and the noise from outside was muffled by a charm. Silence, something he had never seen until recently as golden. But after this summer.....again he consciously wrenched that train of thought to a stop. Unfortunately, it persisted and with nothing but the train's rhythmic motions to distract him, it won out. So, alone, he brooded.

***

"Still no sign," Ron answered automatically as he entered their compartment. Hermione closed her mouth, having not been able to ask the question before it was answered. The true sign of the red-head's distraction showed when he sat beside his girlfriend and absentmindedly stroked Crookshanks's ginger fur. The large cat let out a deep purr that conveyed comfort and sympathy to anyone who was distressed. At the moment, that was everyone in the compartment. 

"You don't think he's missed the train, do you?" Ginny asked, her fear as plain as the rest. The unspoken question, "You don't think he's been taken by the Dark Lord, do you?"--was tagged onto the end of that. Fred shook his head. 

"Not likely," he replied to both questions, "If he had, there would have been a great deal of hell raised by now and as you can see, everyone on this train is more or less as calm and cool as a cucumber. If you forget the excitement and jitters of beginning a new school year." He shrugged helplessly. "We're the only ones that are anywhere near panicked." 

"I don't think I'll reached panicked until we get to Hogwarts and he still hasn't made an appearance," Hermione interjected wryly, though she clutched the feline close. Crookshanks's purring nearly doubled. To all of them, the dark-haired Gryffindor was a brother, one very dear and special that they did not wish to lose. His disappearance was sashaying over tightened nerves like a tap dancer. It was not surprising, therefore, when all jumped when there was a knock at their door. Being closest, Ginny stood to open it....and nearly leapt aside in astonishment. Framed by the shadows of the door, was Malfoy. Without being invited, he slipped in and quietly shut the door behind him. He immediately found himself the target of several wands. In the universal sign of surrender, he raised his hands. 

"Look, I didn't come here to cause trouble," he began, only to be interrupted by Hermione's contemptuous snort. 

"I'm so sure, Malfoy," she added mockingly, displaying none of her customary patience or kindness. Worry over her missing friend had stolen that away from her. He cast an annoyed glance in her direction and fought desperately not to roll his eyes. Gryffindors were known to be somewhat hot-headed at the best of times. Now....well, they were not in the best of moods. Stifling a sigh, he lowered his hands.

"Believe it or not, Granger, that is up to you." The girl's wand-tip lowered and she frowned.

"What did you call me?" Now Draco really did roll his eyes. 

"Granger. That is your name after all. Look, I have something to tell you so would you let me so I can leave and be in peace?" After trading glances and a few words, the wands were lowered and the Slytherin let out a sigh of relief. 

"All right, Malfoy, out with it." Ron crossed his arms, demanding to be impressed. The blonde did not have the time or patience to do so but he could still give his message.

"I know you've been looking for Potter and I also know you haven't found him otherwise he would be among you. I know this: he is on this train, I have seen him." Ron growled and leapt to his feet, slamming the Slytherin so hard against the door Malfoy's teeth rattled. 

"Where is he, you little snake, where is he?" Draco stared down at those blue eyes and replied in a calm tone. 

"I don't know." The red-head pushed harder but Hermione called to him and he backed away, eyes smoldering. The blonde took a moment to straighten himself before continuing. "I checked the entire train from one end to the other, but I couldn't find him anywhere."

"Then why did you say he's on the train if you couldn't find him either?" George asked warily. Draco shrugged, not blaming them for being skeptical. If he were in there position, he would be as well. Not for the first time he wondered why he had come here at all. 

"For one simple reason, I've seen his eyes." 

"His eyes?" Ron repeated incredulously. The Slytherin nodded, letting his annoyance slid away. 

"Yes, eyes. It was only for a moment but I know they were his. If anyone has cared to notice, he's the only person I've seen with those colored eyes. There was no mistaking them," he concluded. Silence fell upon them for a moment as each was left to his/her own thoughts. Why in the world would Harry be hiding from them? If what Draco said was true, then that's what he had to be doing, by why? Why? The only way to answer this would be to find the dark-haired Gryffindor but he was going to make that difficult for them. 

"Is there anything we can do?" Ginny wondered aloud, posing the question to everyone. None had an answer. Malfoy cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. 

"I must leave, I've said what I came to say." The youngest Weasley touched his arm before he had a chance to escape. 

"If you see him....." She trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, eyes imploring. He nodded, slate gray eyes projecting uncommon sympathy. 

"I will find you if I do," he promised before opening the door and slipping through. Ginny pushed it shut behind him then slumped into her seat with a sigh. This was already shaping out to be a bad year and it hadn't even truly begun yet!

***

As the train came to a stop, the emerald eyes watched the chattering students pour from the train and crowd the station like a mass of ants on a piece of food. Speaking of food.....his stomach grumbled loudly but its owner ignored it as he had so many times before. No, he was not truly hungry, his body merely thought that it required some type of nourishment to appease it and keep functioning properly. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew this was true, it should be fed, but only enough to ensure he would not collapse from malnutrition. 

When enough students had left his area, he rose to his feet, as silent as the night itself. He waved open the door and stepped out, the invisibility cloak floating around him like a cloud. Weaving through the crowd he was not felt, heard nor seen by anyone. When he judged he was a sufficient distance from the pressing mass he drew from his pocket a small object that he could barely make out in the dark. With a wave of his hand and a muttered spell the object returned to its original size and revealed itself to be a broom, a Firebolt to be exact. The teenager mounted it and flew in the direction of the looming edifice he would call 'home' for the next nine months before he was returned to hell. The boy; 'home' was really only a lesser hell in his eyes these days. Once it had been a haven, the one place he counted himself safe. No longer and never again would this be true. 

He would not ride the carriages, even if the trip wouldn't be too jarring on his battered body. Still another reason was he did not want to be around others. He knew eventually he would have to re-join the student populace but was holding that off as long as possible. 

As he neared the castle he pulled up, pointing self in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. No, he would not go to the feast, that meant facing the school and his 'friends' who were probably wondering if something had not befallen him. Another snort. Oh, something had befallen him all right, the cruelty of life. It had taught him that the least he was around others, the better. No friends was a bonus. 

With a softly whispered charm the window of the boy's dorm swung open noiselessly, allowing him entry. There was no need for quiet really but it was ingrained in his nature. Silence equaled survival. Stealth was the key. The room was empty of course (or so he thought), the carriages had yet to arrive. The teenager was therefore surprised when a faint whistling fell on his ears. He was not alone. With moves that would have been envied by any fighter, the boy crept around the bed, cane in hand. The whistling continued, the person unaware they were being stalked. In a sudden flurry of black robes, the Gryffindor leapt from his hiding place and pointed his cane at the intruder. The person squeaked and toppled over in surprise. The teenager cursed colorfully and lit the end of the cane. The light revealed the intruder was not a person at all, but an elf, Dobby to be exact. 

"Harry Potter, sir!" the elf squealed, jumping to his overlarge feet and hugged the teenager's leg. When he felt the tight muscles stiffen he immediately released his hold, afraid he had offended the Gryffindor in some way. "It is good to see you again, sir," he added timidly. Harry forced to relax and nod. 

"You as well." At the civil reply the elf began to bounce happily, glad he had not caused offense.

"Harry Potter is here early." 

"I decided not ride the carriages," he answered indifferently, lowering himself on the bed. The brown creature adjusted his tea cozy and resumed his hyper bounce. 

"Is Harry Potter going to feast?" Dobby asked hopefully. Green eyes flashed in momentary annoyance. 

"No, I'm not." His tone reflected the look within his eyes. 

"Dobby bring Harry Potter something?" the elf asked hopefully. Harry sighed; there would be no getting rid of the elf if he didn't give him something to do.

"Yes, just water please." The green tennis ball eyes were alive with joy. 

"Right away, sir!" Was followed by the customary crack that signaled the elf's exit. Relief washed over him as he removed his shoes and robe and neatly placed them in his trunk. He paused before closing the lid, then decided he would change clothes. Even if his night clothes consisted of Dudley's longer shirts they were still better to sleep in. As he finished changing a small tray of water and crackers appeared on his night stand. A sigh escaped the soft lips; Dobby had good intentions but he just did not wish to eat. Just this once he decided to humor the elf and nibbled one of the plain saltine crackers as he climbed under the heavy scarlet coverlet. After downing the water he waved the tray back to the kitchen, having taken only one of the crackers offered. As he turned on his side he was already deciding how to avoid the others in the morning.

***End of Chapter 1***

A/N: Well, that was interesting, do you think I should continue? For those of you that have not read my other story, Gold and Silver, Fire and Ice, you may not understand the references to the "cane" that Harry has. That's okay, it will be explained later on. 

The boy seems awfully.....different....this will be good for me. I need to write a depressed Harry, Severus and Albus. It'll be good for my system. :D Bye!

Please review!


	3. The Musings of a Slytherin Mind

A/N: Since I've received such good replies to this, I think I'll continue it. So here you go, the next chapter. Enjoy. *Bows and easies herself gracefully to sit before the keyboard, Slytherin robes fanning out around her.*

Chapter 2- Musings of the Slytherin Mind

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Must I say more?

Severus Snape glanced up in irritation as the clock on his wall chimed seven times. The Opening Feast. Not that he wanted to attend but neither did he wish to see the disappointed light within the Headmaster's eyes. Severus was capable of many things but he never wished to disappoint the man he would have gladly called father. That was why he cursed the bird (phoenix) that popped from the clock; it had been a gift from Albus at Christmas the year before and he'd been too touched at the time to refuse and it was only later did he realise the slow torture the device was capable of. Clucking at all hours of the night; it had been maddening. When he'd finally spoken to the Headmaster about it the man had come down to his room at once and though the Potions Master did not know what he had done, it had worked. The bird would be silent at night and even cooed in a comforting sort of way when he was not feeling well. He also had a strange suspicion that the phoenix would go to see Dumbledore if something were wrong with him. Though he appreciated the help because no one else would ever do so, he was still irritated by the breach in privacy. Fairly certain was he that Albus did not do that for other professors. To certain extent, it gave him a slight feeling of security and warmth. 

He sat his quill off to the side, closing his journal. When he'd returned to his spying duties he'd made the decision to keep it. It was perhaps dangerous, but no one but the Headmaster would ever see it. His reputation was enough to keep most away. The more foolish would find themselves on the wrong end of a curse if they were to dare approach his chambers. And if that said fool mananged to get past his wards.....Merlin help them for they would be in more trouble than they could ever deal with. They should count their blessings if they were to get out with all their limbs attached. _If_ they were lucky.

Stretching like a cat he momentarily contemplated going to sleep, Merling knew he could use the rest. But no, he needed to got to the Opening Feast, if only to please Albus. Though it would likely not please Albus if he were to collapse during it. Rising to his feet he swayed unsteadly for a moment before reasserting his balance. This was certainly not good. He had been without food for two days while on an assignment for the Dark Lord. On his return to the school he had been offered as much as he could eat. Only now that it was offered, the thought of it even _entering_ his mouth made him gag, and he never gagged. But he would have to eat soon or he would collapse and then he would be no good to anyone, Dumbledore or Voldemort.

So with slow, measured steps he began his ascent to the ground level of the school. When he arrived the Great hally was partially full; chattering students at their house tables, the other professors already seated at the high table, also chattering away. He ground his teeth and dearly wished he had thought to bring ear plugs; this insistant buzzing grated on his nerves. But he had not and never would. Not that he would have worn them, he would never voluntarily impair any of his senses. He depended on them and his experience to keep him alive. And they had for many years and would hopefully continue to do so if his luck held. Cruel luck and Fate; many a time he wished he would have just died, just to end what ever agony he had been going through at the time. Never again to feel all the emotions that comprised his life now. Pain, sorrow, guilt and fear. And that was when he was in a good mood! In his foulest of moods came even darker emotions. Hate, pure and undiluted for all those around him, most especially Potter and Voldemort. They made his existance on this Earth all the more unpleasant. But with a sigh he had to admit, though only to himself, that he did not hate Potter. His father, James Potter, yes, but not the boy. No, the Gryffindor had not done anything more than rouse disdain and annoyance, even anger but never true hate. Yet. Though he found it difficult to seperate the boy from his father as when he saw him, James's damned smirking expression super-imposed itself over the teenager. 

Speaking of Potter....where was the Golden Boy? He passed directly by the Gryffindor table, scowling at any student who haplessly obstructed his path. Seating himself on Dumbledore's left, he gave a curt nod to the Headmaster as a greeting. The twinkle within the cerulean blue eyes increased greatly as a smile spread across the ancient face. 

"Hello, Severus, so good of you to join us." He said the same in every year past and though the Potions Master thought he should fave been annoyed by it, he found immense comfort in its routine. He gave his usual reply. 

"Of course, Headmaster. Though there are other and better ways to spend my time." The man chuckled and passed him a small wrapped object. It was all Severus could do to keep himself from pouncing upon it, thereby losing all dignity, and liesurely pick it up, unwrapping it slowly. When the purple wrapper fell away, the Potions Master allowed himself the smallest of smiles. Chocolate; the Headmaster knew his weakness well. He had barely placed it in his mouth when he had to clamp a hand over the opening to keep from expelling it. His concentration on this was so deep that he nearly lept in the air when a hand touched his shoulder. 

"Severus?" The name was pitched solely for his sensitive hearing. "Did you not think you might be carrying extra curses when you came back to Hogwarts?" The Potions Master shook his head slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The chocolate was beginning to melt and the urge to vomit was increasing by the second. A small smile reached his ears. "It is all right, Severus, spit it out. You need to come to my Tower later and we will see what we can do about getting rid of them. Then, perhaps, you can eat." Again this was answered with a small nod, and Severus slowly removed his hand, spitting the almost dissolved candy back in the purple wrapper. A smally sip of water was enough to wash away his nasueness and allowed him to settle back in his chair. Something was missing, he realised as his gem-like orbs swept over the hall, but what was it.....

.....Potter! He still was not present. This thought made the man sneer. Trust Potter not to show; stupid boy probably missed the train. This susipicion was only confirmed when he viewed the boy's friends' expressions. They seemed to be overwhelmed by worry, or so Snape surmised by their nervous actions. It was then he noticed them glancing frequently across the room. He followed their line of sight and spotted Draco exchanging glances with them! What the hell was going on? The Headmaster must have spotted his raised eyebrow for he nudged him gently. 

"What is it?" he whispered. Severus just shook his head as Minerva finished with the sorting and took her place at the Headmaster's right. Unable to ask more questions the older man stood. His commanding presence made the hall quiet in a matter of momments as they turned to him. 

"Another year is beginning and I know that some friends are absent," He nodded to all the empty seats in the hall which Snape found slightly alarming. "But we must not allow this to dampen our spirits but rejoice in those who are present. As you all remember what I stated at the close of last term, Voldemort has returned," He allowed the buzzing in the hall to continue for a moment before he held up his hand for silence. "I'm sure many of you have heard from Minister Fudge that this not true but let me assure you, it is. As such, we will take extra precautions to ensure your safety and that means stricter punishments for rule breakers," His gaze wandered in the direction of the Weasley twins who blinked ever so innocently back at him. His threat having been delivered the twinkle returned to his cerulean eyes as he clapped his hands together. "I do believe that covers everything so I believ we should all tuck in." At these final words the golden platters filled with food. Many took the Headmaster's advice and dug in but Severus did not. He stared at the roasted turkey and chicken with disdain and sniffed, turning his head away, contemplating leaving. But this action was stalled when two Gryffindors approached the staff table. he looked up and sneered: Granger and Weasley. They must be here because of the absent Potter. Granger's next words proved him correct.

"Professor Dumbledore, we're worried about harry. We couldn't find him on the train and he hasn't shown up for the feast." Beside her Weasley nodded, worry creasing their faces. Snape's eyes narrowed. Surely Potter would not hide from his own friends.....

"But he is in the castle," the Headmaster commented, his expression thoughtful.

"Sir?" 

"He is in the castle," Dumbledore repeated firmly, "I can feel him." This statement earned him several startled looks; Severus adopted a thoughtful expression. 

"What do you mean, Albus?" McGonagall asked, now joining the conversation. It was the Headmaster's turn to be confused. 

"Do you mean to tell me that none of you sense the boy in the castle?" There were negative murmurs and shaking of heads all around when a deep voice suddenly spoke up. 

"I do." Collectively the teachers turned the the Potions Master. 

"Severus?" Albus prompted when the man fell silent. Black eyes glittered strangely as the man lifted his dark head. 

"I sense him as well, Potter is in this castle." Silence fell over them as they traded puzzled looks. 

"Well, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, as long as Harry is in the castle I don't believe their is anything to worry about. If he does not show for breakfast tomorrow then come to me but until then you should eat something or you will regret it later." He shooed them back to their house tables and they went reluctantly. Peace returned to the hight table with their exit. This feeling, however, did not see fit to extend itself over a certain Potions Master.

When Severus had attempted to understand what the Headmaster was speaking of he found it almost immediately. In his mind's eye he saw the boy sleep, surrounded by a strange golden aura, tainted black and red. Tremendous power lay dorment within that small body, waiting to be awakened. Curiosity piqued he carefully reached out to touch, not considering how or the consequences. Instantly he was sucked in and felt as though he were drowning. He clawed his way to the surface, fighting to take a breath. Another light, this one an unsoiled white, broke through and Severus grasped at it, using it as a lifeling. It had only been then that he had been able to answer. Now hat the others were gone, he was able to sink deep into his own thoughts as to why this had happened. No matter how much he wracked his brain he could not come up with an answer. To the casual observer, the seeminly relaxed posture and closed eys would have suggested sleep, but it was not so. The Headmaster knew, but let him brew alone, content with the knowledge that he would break the circling thoughts later.

Eventually thoughts of the Potter mystery shifted to a more worrisome subject: his spying duties. Not that he was encountering any difficulties, quite the contrary, he had been accepted back fairly quickly. That was what worried him; it was a fairly safe assumption that his loyalty was being tested in ways he was unaware of. So far, he'd apparently given them no reason to doubt but he was all too aware of the consequences if he were found as a traitor. He might make it back to Hogwarts; in how many pieces was a good question. So he had toed the line and came home with the same wish every time; that life would return to normal. But, always with a wry smile, he would wonder what 'normal' was supposed to be.

"Severus? Severus. Child, it is time to go." Albus's kind but commanding voice pulled him from his world and into the present. With a slight nod he rose gracefully and almost fell back into his chair as a wave of dizziness swamped his senses. Two strong hands helped him remain upright as he waited for the spots to clear. 

"Not so fast, I have got you," the older man assured as the Potions Master blinked repeatedly. 

"Then who has you?" Severus groused as the image of the man continued to dance before him. A soft chuckle was his answer as he was led to some destination. When he had no success in quelling the dizziness he shut his eyes tight, allowing himself to be led away. He was in no shape to resist as it was. 

"Easy, Severus, sit down. That's it." Instead the Potions Master found himself laying down. He registered soft brushes against his skin and realised he was bare of clothes from the waist up. He knew he should protes but he say no point, he was in good hands. Now if he could only remember who's hands. He hissed and jerked away, however, when those hands found a sore spot. 

"Ah." He heard murmured followed by a brief incantation. The pain slowly receeded as thow it were being bled from him. 

"All right, Severus, you're going to have to sit up so you can eat." Food. The Potions Master complied immediately, all but licking his lips and trying not to salvate too badly when the succulent smells reached him. His expression must have been amusing because the voice chuckled which increased to a full blown laugh when he inhaled the food. 

"Slow down, child, you're going to choke yourself." But no heed was paid to the warning as he continuted. Finally, when he could take in no more, he layed back, shivering against the room's chill. A downy soft quilt found itself around and he accepted its warmth gratefully. The voice came again, though it seemed distant.

"Sleep well, my child, I will watch your dreams."

***End of chapter***

A/N: *Stretches her swore back muscles and is grateful when Severus appears and begins to work on her shoulders* You know, at times, it's good to be on his good side. *Winces when he finds a particular knot* Very good indeed. Well, I believe we have all three elements, lets see how they interact with one another. *Takes up a cup of hot chocolate and stares out the window* This should be very interesting indeed. 

Please Review!


	4. The Glorious Morning

A/N: This story is going to be updated here until my grandparents get their computer fixed. Anyone who really wants to read it will have to come here. *Stretches and accepts a cup of hot chocolate from Severus* Thank you, Severus, I think I'll start now.

This chapter is dedicated to everyone at the GSFI website and especially GC, whose diligence keeps it going when nothing else does. Thank you GC! And too my muse, Severus, *he raises his glass* who has been working especially hard to try and get my brain back on track after "Carousel".

Chapter 3- The "Glorious" Morning

Consciousness returned to the raven-haired teen in a slow trickle, his nightmares reluctant to release him from their grasp. Emerald eyes slit open and darted around, carefully taking his surroundings. Memories flowed like a swollen river to his brain and a scowl settled over his delicate features. School, classes, students, crowds, torture. What fun. With barely a whisper of fabric he sat up and stretched his sore muscles, the bruise on his left side mildly protesting. Without so much as a sound he pushed his curtains aside and swung out of bed. His spell must have worked for his slumber had gone undisturbed (by outside influence at any rate). It had been a mixture of an illusion and repelling charm, perfected for just this occasion. Treading lightly to the bathroom with his clothes, he was again silent. It was one of the only attributes of himself that he liked and that was his ability to perform tasks, even magic, and remain absolutely silent. 

Carefully locking the door behind him, Harry waved his hand, switching on one of the shower heads, allowing it to warm before he entered. As is did so, he began to remove his rumpled nightclothes, exposing the scared skin beneath. The mirror gasped. 

"My goodness, child, what happened to you?" Its sympathy grated on the boy's nerves and he snapped out.

"Nothing," before casting a silencing spell over the object. All he needed was it sputtering the entire time he was in here, that would certainly improve his mood. Note the sarcasm. The water was scalding, almost to the point it would damage his skin but he did not mind, enjoyed the pain. It was a welcome respite from the numbing emptiness that left a vague uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. It was almost as though his insides had been scrambled around and emptied, leaving him hollow. At times, when this seemed all he _could_ feel, his vision would become obscured by a strange dark cloud. He had come to know that cloud for it constantly hung around hm; he'd yet to figure how to be rid of it. But, since he found himself relying on the strength it provided, he was somewhat reluctant to be rid of it. With the cloud had come other abilities, ones he had yet to fully master. But there was nothing he could do right now, he decided, stepping from the shower. His alabaster skin was flushed red from the heat and burned in one or two places he noted with some satisfaction. Quickly slipping the cool clothes on he un-hexed the mirror before casting a Memory Charm on it. There was nothing more he could do or he would; the Memory Charm was risky for it could be broken and then his secret would be known. The raven-haired Gryffindor, however, had complete confidence in his spell and knew no one would break it. 

Taking up a brush, he began to run it through the rat's nest he called hair. Over the summer the raven locks had grown out and surprisingly curled up. From their pictures, Harry knew neither of his parents had curly hair. Now that the teenager had allowed it too lengthen he found it much easier to manage, even it did seem as though he'd gotten a perm. It was sort of like a lazy corkscrew curl; he tied back with a bit of black ribbon he'd taken from Aunt Petunia's arts and crafts supplies. One would think it would give a feminine look but it did not. Some men (or teenagers in this case) looked fine with long hair; he happened to be one of them. The one lock that fell free accented his high cheekbones and graceful arch of his thing eyebrows. His eyes were hidden emeralds behind long dark lashes.

Giving himself one last look over, he quietly exited the bathroom, gathering his books from his trunk. A soft mumble made him freeze in the middle of closing his trunk-lid and hold his breath. The sound was not repeated, he was relieved to note that one of his dorm-mates was merely talking in his sleep and not actually awake. Good, that meant no confrontations this morning, or at least for a couple of hours. He would go downstairs and eat then disappear until it was time to go to class. He pasued for a moment on the way down to the common room. How was he going to get his schedule if he wasn't at breakfast with everyone else? Surely there was a way around this problem. And there was, he would just need to come up with it in time. Rolling around potential plans in his mind, the Gryffindor left the Tower and descended down to the Great Hall. So deep in thought was he that he paid no attention to his surroundings. That is, until he reached the bottom of the stairs. Something told him to glance up after he stepped off the last step ad he did. Immediately he wished he hadn't. With a strangled gasp he stumbled back and tripped, falling hard on the stone floor. With inhumanly wide eyes he watched the creatures of all shapes, sizes and types crawl on the walls and floor. Ghosts that he knew he had never seen before floated past, staring straight ahead. Most had a haunted (no pun intended) look upon their faces while others chatted among themselves but they were still unfamiliar. At his strangled gasp the creatures and some of the spirits turned to him. They all came to the decision that he could see them and started towards him. His breathing quickened and he curled into a ball, rocking back and forth. 

"It's not real. It's not real. It is _not_ real." He repeated over and over to himself as he drew in even tighter. The faint whispers disappeared and after a moment the teenager summoned the courage to look up. The images were gone, the hall bare of anything but himself. For a moment he paused before standing and straightening his robes. He had been seeing things, that was all, he tried to convince himself as he walked down to the Great Hall.

***

The Potions Master was slammed back into consciousness as if he'd been hit over the head with a bat. Had he not been wrapped so tightly in the green blanket and in the middle of his bed, his flailing limbs would have sent him sprawling to the floor. With a fist of iron he clamped down on his emotions and commanded his body to still. It complied slowly, clearly fighting the adrenaline that had been pumped into it moments before. When he was in full control once more he carefully began to de- tangle himself from the blanket. Arduous though the struggled proved, he nevertheless prevailed as he rolled free of the binding object. When he was a sufficient distance he took it into his hands and began to examine it thoroughly. It was obviously new, the green showed no wear but upon discovering what it was made of, that was no surprise. The wool of the Heaven's Helpers, no wonder it appeared new. If the Potions Master was correct it would remain doing so for years to come. Heaven's Helpers were a cross between a sheep and a wolf. Bodies built like sheep with legs and claws of wolves these creatures were almost impossible to find and even more difficult to domesticate thanks to their wild natures and unpredictable behavior. It was believed theses creatures earned their names when a hapless wizard stumbled across a herd and was confronted by the leader. According to accounts from the man, he swore he saw blood dripping from the beasts mouth. Later discoveries proved that it was merely a red colouration around the mouth (the rest of the body was white) to give the false appearance of blood. Their hair had to be removed with a special Shearing Charm and collected quickly before the stunned beast could charge. When the man had first seen the beast, the first words out of his mouth were "Heaven help us" and the name remained.

The wool had been woven in the shape of a large quilt, clearly made for two people or even three and enough for one to get lost in if they so wished. What made the wool so prized besides its rarity were two qualities: softness and durability. Once processed fully the wool was as strong as thick steel bars but as soft and light as a feather. It was quite amazing to behold and to have it dyed green....it only enhanced its beauty. It was while examining it that Severus noticed something odd; there was a silver phoenix in one of the corners. He passed a hand over it, muttering to himself.

"Now why would....." He trailed off. As his hand moved away, the phoenix appeared to have changed. In the center of its body were two letters: SS. The Potions Master had no doubt they stood for his name. But how (and from whom) had he gotten it? Surely no one would just give this away? 

His musings were interrupted by the squawking phoenix as it chimed the sixth hour. Ah, he thought, time for breakfast. A scowl settled briefly over his features; he wished to dine in his quarters but the Headmaster would never allow it, proclaiming he did not socialize enough. Socialize, pah! Who needed to socialize? He enjoyed being alone. So, since he was not allowed to eat in the dungeons he had gotten up early every morning to eat before everyone else. It served his purpose and he didn't mind getting up at six; he was normally awake by then anyhow. 

Rising from the bed with his normal fluid grace he wrapped the blanket around himself as he searched for his clothes, going over what had happened the night before. He remembered being at the feast but not much else. There had been someone who had put him to bed, (wrapping in the comfortable blanket!) and fed him because for the first time in two days (now three) he wasn't hungry. Or dizzy. Or lightheaded. It was a blessing. But who would have done this for him?

The answer was elementary: the Headmaster. No one else would have bothered or even dared. Added to the fact that no one else could even get past his wards but the venerable man. It was distinctly comforting to know it had been him.

Letting the blanket fall to the floor he pulled on the black slacks and shirt, buttoning up the front and cuffs. It was cold in the dungeons so he always wore warm outfits, whether it be summer or winter. Shouldering the robe on and pulling on his boots, he clicked his wand into its sheath on his arm and was just about to leave when he glanced back and saw the blanket. Pausing from momentary indecision he suddenly turned back and snatched the gift from the floor. Folding it carefully he tapped it once with his wand, shrinking it, and placed it within his pocket. He did not know shy he did it, but it being there gave him an unusual sense of security.

***

When Harry entered the Hall it was to find it empty. That was perfect and unsurprising in his opinion. No one else would be up at this hour if they didn't have to be. Drifting over to the Gryffindor table he allowed a small smile when a plate of his favorite food appeared. It seemed Dobby was up and knew the Gryffindor was as well. Picking up one of the golden utensils he carefully picked out a bit of egg and took a bite. Too salty, so much so he almost spit it back out. Clamping his mouth shut he resolutely chewed and swallowed then took another bit. His tongue was merely unused to the taste; salt was a commodity not spared upon him at the Dursleys when he was allowed to eat. He would just have to readjust, but after a few more mouthfuls of the egg and sausage, he was full.

He was taking a long drink of his orange juice when the soft click of a closing door caught his attention and he looked up. The juice came from his mouth in a fine mist, him choking on what was left. It was Snape but with an added feature: wings. Silver feathers passed seamlessly into black at the tips, one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Strangely, though, they seemed to droop and Harry saw that there were steel chains wrapped tightly around them. Feeling as though he were swimming through water he blinked as the black eyes met his. 

***

Severus took his time going to the Great Hall; there was no real reason to hurry, he wouldn't eat much as he was still a bit full from the night before. The paintings, most still asleep, greeted him casually and with a sudden turn of personality, he returned their greetings with a few of his own. The paintings took this as a good sign and speculated amongst themselves exactly what could have caused this turn. He ignored them and patted his pocket where the small blanket resided, allowing its presence to calm him. It was al that did. Since he'd left his rooms, the feeling that he was being watched had not lifted. A few times he had stopped and looked back to see if there was anyone but always found nothing. Yet, he could not shake the feeling; it was like an itch under his skin, one he could not scratch. 

These thoughts were still on his mind when he entered the Great Hall. However, a gasp and choking sound pulled him from them and he looked up. He found himself trapped by emerald eyes.

***

When their eyes looked, Harry suddenly saw something new. The light of the wings outlined the Potions Master's body before engulfing it and extending to the surroundings. Instead of obscuring his view, the silver light seemed to lift a veil, revealing what he had seen earlier in the hall. This time the creatures were immediately aware he could see them and started forward. His breath caught in his throat as they neared, fighting the want to curl up and disappear.

Before they could get too close, however, the strange light pushed them back and reached for him, brushing over his in invitation. He desperately wanted to give in to the protection he felt there, the want to help but he couldn't. No, it was better to be alone; he could always count on himself. Reluctantly he pulled away, declining the invitation to join. The light seemed to understand and pulled away though, unbeknownst to him, a thread remained, providing a tentative connection. The creatures were still unable to approach even as the light retreated. Harry found he could once again see the Potions Master and another. Behind him and to his left was the spectral form of a woman. Black encompassed her body and torrents of gold fell in rivers from her head. Eyes, darker green than the Forbidden Forest, stared back at him, acknowledging the fact that he could see her. A spark of recogniztion passed through him. Her?!

She touched the Potions Master's shoulder, earning a shiver, her lips moving. It was then that the student realised: Snape could hear her! But with the shiver the spell over them broke and Harry found himself able to look away. He closed his eyes and vainly tried to catch his breath. What had happened? Every nerve in his body was at the state of hypersensitivity and endorphins ran through his brain in an attempt to kill the pain. But with the pain came pleasure, the knowledge that he had been a part of something special. With the pleasure came more pain; the truth that he was once more alone and would remain so. He clutched his head with a moan and squinted up at the older man. He seemed to have fallen into the Headmaster's chair and laid his own head against the table in his arms. Perfect, he could beat a hasty retreat this way. Lurching to his feet, he grabbed his cane and bag and stumbled clumsly from the hall.

***

(Sev's Point of View)

I could not escape them; they held me as a dying man holds onto life. What occurred the night before, the image of the golden aura flashed through my mind and quite suddenly I could see it again. It was not as clear as it had been in the dream and now, black and red seemed to dominate over the gold. From the student's back arched wings. They were decrepit, flesh discoloured and rotting, the once golden feathers lacking all luster or falling off completely. The sight turned my stomach and I wanted to be rid of last night's dinner but something would not allow me. Those eyes, it was them. They still held me, and I was not putting up a fight. Every emotion known to the human race was held there, frothing like a storm-tossed sea. Four emotions stood out from the rest: fear, anger, pain and hope.

When I saw him as I did no, I could feel something pass through and out of me. Silver light emanated from my body and towards the boy. Why it was reaching for him, I don't know, but when it touched him, pain seared through my gut. I wanted to cry out but found that was impossible, my lips were sealed as if by a spell. The light seemed to have another affect; it seemd to have opened my ears. Whispers of all types bombarded me, increasing my pain. A lone voice above the chaos penetrated my haze of sensory overload. 

"Severus?" I shuddered; so familiar, the haunting quality of the tone sent shivers down my spine. The word also seemed to have broken the spell; I found I could look away. Finding the nearest chair I collapsed unceremoniously into it, pillowing my aching head in my arms. Faintly registering the scrapping of wood against stone, I realised Harry must be running. Away more than likely; it would be a cold day in hell before that child ever came to my aid. 

When relief was at least marginal enough for me to stand, I hauled myself up and headed back to my room. Taking a potion for this migraine and more sleep would do me wonders at the moment.

(End of Sev's POV)

***End of Chapter 3***

A/N: Stop glaring at me like that, Severus, your face might freeze. *The Potions Master's scowl grew darker.* Don't mind him, he just doesn't know what happened and it's driving him to drink. *Eyes the man as he downs a shot of whiskey.* Literally. But what did happen? Do you know? Stay tuned to find out!


End file.
